Monthly Archives: October 2011

When I was a kid in Paris, my parents often entertained—on a shoe string budget—a fascinating array of guests. Charles de Gaulle came for lunch one day, and one night Edith Piaf got very drunk during dinner. Francis Poulenc … Continue reading →

Sometimes in the middle of the night I wake up suddenly and think, “I’m 65; there’s no one else in the house, and I have cancer.” The notion rises, echoes like a shout in a deep canyon, leaves me … Continue reading →

On the day I got the diagnosis, I walked home from the doctor’s office, a distance of a couple of miles. At the first Starbucks, I stopped and had coffee and a blueberry scone. About a half-mile later, I … Continue reading →

I am doing strange things. Last night I fixed myself a Big Mac, complete with secret sauce (ketchup, mayo and a dash of Dijon mustard). It wasn’t particularly good and I know I will pay for the excessiveness, but … Continue reading →

“Cancer,” said a friend much wiser than I will ever be, “is the cancer of society.” This is an undeniable truth, one that I’ve been wrestling with and against. I am now entertaining the possibility that an epiphanette has … Continue reading →

Today for lunch I had a sausage patty sandwich on white bread with yellow mustard and a diet Dr. Pepper. Take that, traitorous body! I’ve been inordinately touchy. The piece of paper inserted between the slices of my Kraft … Continue reading →

When in doubt, write. And since right now I am in doubt, anxiety, denial and anger, all bleeding into a fearful marmalade, writing seems like a safe venue. Dr. K’s verdict this morning was of the good news/bad news … Continue reading →